Aslan, help!
by Saoirse7
Summary: Giants from the north have somehow invaded the Western Woods. But the High King has never planned a battle without Aslan there! Set shortly after the Battle of Beruna.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Peter! Peter, come quick!"

Peter's head jerked up from the papers he had been studying. "What? What is it?"

Susan came barreling around the corner, breathing hard. "There's a messenger in the receiving room who needs to talk to you. Apparently, some giants have attacked the Western Woods."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Western Woods? I thought giants came out of the northern mountains. How did they get that far into the country without us knowing about it?"

His sister shrugged. "Does it matter? We've got to do something about it!"

The young man cast a reluctant glance back to his desk and heaved a sigh, causing Susan to chuckle. "I never banked on it being this difficult," he moaned. "I've only been in this king business five months!"

Susan laid a hand on his arm. "We all have. But problems aren't getting solved by us just standing here. As Kings and Queens of Narnia, we have a responsibility to lead the people, even in battle. I don't want to do it any more than you do, but…" She trailed off, but the pointed look she gave him spoke volumes.

Peter turned to her, his gray-blue eyes boring into hers. "You're right. Aslan wouldn't have called us if he didn't think we were capable." Allowing a faint smile to touch his lips, he spoke quietly, yet with a note of determination. "Let's go."

The young woman smiled in response. "_That's_ the High King Aslan appointed."

With that, they hurried out of the study in the direction of the auditorium.

On the way, they passed Edmund engaged in a heated argument with a faun. "That isn't fair, and you know it!"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't start with that rubbish again, Tranaeus! You know—"

He was interrupted sharply as Peter stopped and spun him around. "Ed, what's all this about? What are you doing?"

The boy's face paled, and Peter noticed the faun behind him blush a darker shade of crimson, which was accentuated by his red hair and beard.

But Edmund was only pale for an instant. "Tranaeus treats me like I can't do as I please! I am king, after all!" he finished, casting an angry glare over his shoulder in the faun's direction.

Peter spoke as calmly as he could, knowing that the situation depended on him being level-headed. "Ed, calm down. The faun might know what he's talking about. Remember, we're all learning here."

Edmund's face remained dark. Exasperated, the older brother cast a glance toward Susan for help, but she shrugged and indicated the receiving room with a jerk of her head. Peter made a face. "Edmund, you've got to let it go. We've got a battle on our hands."

That got his attention. "What?"

Peter nodded. "Giants. Come on, we'll need your help." He started to head off, then paused and glanced back. "Where's Lu?" Edmund shrugged, and Peter saw Susan and Tranaeus do the same. The young man rolled his eyes. "Okay. We'll find her later. The messenger probably thinks we died on the way." Again, he began striding away.

"Messenger?" Edmund wrinkled his brow.

"The one who informed us of the giant attack," Susan leaned over and whispered.

Understanding dawned on his face, and he hurried to catch up with the others as they moved rapidly down the corridor.

* * *

><p>Lucy was skipping down the hallway on her way to the library when her siblings rushed past through a corridor intersecting the one she was in, all focused on their destination. She paused, a confused look on her face. "Where could they be going in such a hurry?" she wondered aloud. A strange sense of foreboding gripped her, and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, I hope everything's alright!" Turning quickly, she began to run after them when she near collided with a faun who had been trailing behind.<p>

"Excuse me, Your Majesty!" he cried, clearly surprised, at the same time Lucy exclaimed, "Oh, goodness! I didn't even see you, Tranaeus. I'm sorry."

The faun smiled in response, and Lucy was reminded very briefly of the first time she ever ran into a faun, the first time she had ever even seen a faun, in fact. But that was quite another matter.

"Do you know why the others were in such a hurry?" she queried.

Tranaeus looked anxious. "Apparently there's been a giant attack. His Majesty King Peter was looking for you earlier."

Lucy's eyebrows shot up. "Giants?"

He nodded.

"Where were they headed?"

The faun gave her a blank look.

"My brothers and sister," she explained tersely.

"Oh. The receiving room, I believe," he returned, for which information Lucy promptly thanked him and rushed off that direction as well.

* * *

><p>"How could we have possibly missed this?" Peter ejaculated with a frown. "Isn't our border guard better than this?"<p>

"We haven't had much time to establish a border guard," Susan spoke quietly. "This is just us not being prepared."

"Obviously," Edmund interjected. "If we had been prepared, then we would have stopped them before they even hit Narnia."

Peter shot him a look that conveyed all the annoyance of the situation. "Ed…" he trailed off.

"What? You know it's true. If we hadn't been so focused on rebuilding the palace and various buildings the witch destroyed and instead put our energies into fighting the rest of her cursed forces, then we wouldn't have this big of a problem."

Just then Lucy came in, hearing the last bit of what he said. "Okay, I don't even exactly know what's going on, but you and I both know that these were things that needed done. We can only tackle one thing at a time. Just because we're kings and queens doesn't mean we can do everything all at once. Besides, accidents happen. How were we supposed to know that we needed an army right away?"

All three of her siblings turned to look at her in surprise. Peter was the first to speak. "Lucy's right. And there's no sense moaning about what could have or should have been done. All we can focus on right now is what we're going to do about the issue at hand. My only question is: how are we going to plan a battle without Aslan's help?"

Edmund, Susan, and Lucy took a collective gasp and stared at him, eyes wide. "I don't know," Edmund spoke up. "I haven't ever done that before."

Susan gave him one of her exasperated looks, then returned her gaze to Peter. "Well, we do have competent commanders. I'm sure Oreius would be more than willing to assist us. Him and all of the other centaurs who helped us last time. Remember, you did lead the initial attack on the witch in the Battle of Beruna."

Peter nodded slightly, although it was more of a shake of his head than a nod. "Yes, well…"

"And don't forget about all of the faun, satyrs, and cats that helped us, too, among others," Lucy piped up. "We have more than enough to do what we need to do."

The High King pursed his lips and nodded, this time with more confidence. "That's true. Ed, I need you to help me gather all of those that Lucy just listed. Susan, I'm going to need your help to get the archers together and ready. Lucy, I—uh—you just stay in the castle for now." Lucy returned this comment with a pout, to which Peter hastily added, "We'll find something for you to do later. At this point in time my main concern for you is to stay safe."

Lucy ducked her head so her brother wouldn't see and rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself," she muttered.

Peter heard her anyway. "Come on, Lu. I need you to cooperate on this one. Everyone, we have a battle to plan!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

And plan they did. Oreius and his generals were very helpful in choosing battle strategies, but it was primarily up to the kings and queens, Lucy included, to position the troops and attempt to decipher how to best go about this attack.

"I think an ambush would be best," Edmund spoke up during one of their meetings.

Peter nodded. "A surprise attack would be more effective than an all-out affront. Our forces may be strong, but there isn't much that will do damage against a giant."

"My liege, I have a suggestion," Oreius began, coming up behind them. Both kings spun in his direction, and Peter gave an affirmative for him to continue. "My scouts tell me that the giants are headed for the river. They are about three day's journey from it, and everyone knows that giants don't move very fast."

A smothered giggle escaped from Lucy's direction, and the others couldn't help but grin. "Sorry," she muttered. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

The centaur gave her one of his dignified smiles. "It's quite alright. Now, as I was saying, we have three days. Working with the beavers and dwarves, we could amass a series of traps, if you will, to intercept them. When they are distracted by these, then we can bring them down.

Susan stepped forward. "What kinds of traps?"

"Like booby traps?" Lucy snickered.

Peter turned to her. "I think that's what he means, Lu. Something to hit them just enough to where they're weakened and unaware." He faced Oreius again. "And that would be our first attack? I think it's a novel idea. What do you think, Ed?"

Edmund nodded. "It's a good start. I mean, it would take something to bring down a giant, but if we work quickly, then I think we can do it."

Oreius nodded and bowed slightly. "Then with Your Majesty's leave, I will begin work immediately. With the battle closing in, we mustn't waste any time."

The eldest brother dismissed him with a brief shake of his head, and he and the others at once began to discuss what they were going to do after the traps were set up.

"Once we down them with the traps, we can bring forward the cats and other quick, effective hunters to comprise the second attack," Susan spoke matter-of-factly. "At the same time, I could take the archers to the top of the valley, and start picking off that way."

Both Peter and Edmund agreed. "And we'll be equipped with the other weapons once they get past our first few waves of attack."

Susan narrowed her eyes slightly and took on a determined expression. "Let's do it."

They started work on the "booby traps," as Lucy had termed them, in the morning. Badgers and other ground-dwelling animals dug holes and covered them with brush, while beavers weakened trees and rigged a trap that would fell them easily. At the same time, Susan, along with other fauns and centaurs, made places ready for a quick and accurate view in which to let their arrows fly. The dwarves that were on their side put their effort into forging more weapons and a large catapult-like machine, and gryphons gathered rocks to drop, much like their first attack on the White Witch.

For most of that entire day and the next, Peter and Oreius were on a hill overlooking the valley where the battle would ensue, discussing strategies and the best positions and timing for the limited troops they had.

"I think we should bring our armies around after we've triggered the first several attacks, including the traps, cats, and gryphons. Since this is in the woods, we can't bring flaming arrows through, but we can let the archers loose after the gryphons do their thing." Peter pointed to several positions on the map where the archers were going to stand and glanced up at the noble centaur, to find his brow wrinkled in concentration.

"But where are we going to conceal our armies during these attacks, my liege? The valley isn't big enough for even the troops we have."

Peter appeared to contemplate this for a long moment. "We could have some of them in the valley, around in the trees. The rest, we could place on the ridge or perhaps even on the other side of the river."

Oreius raised one eyebrow. "On the other side of the river?"

The young man made a face. "No, I suppose not. That would effectively be a suicide mission." He thought again for a minute. "I suppose we'll just need to work with what we have then, hmm?"

His general nodded and took a step back, turning to view the valley once more and assess the situation.

All of a sudden, there was a shriek in the distance, like the call of a bird of prey, and the king and the centaur noticed a large bird-like beast headed their way. When the creature came closer, however, it was clear that it was a gryphon, one of their trusted scouts.

"What is it, Ryder?" Peter asked as the creature circled nearer.

The beast landed, breathing hard. "Sire…Giants…closing in… Much closer…than we thought… A battle…not far…away. Marching on…the river…very soon."

Peter stared at him, brow furrowed in concern. "How far are they away from the river?"

The gryphon swallowed and took another deep breath. "About…one mile…Your Majesty."

At this, the king shot a glance, wide-eyed, in the direction of his friend and advisor, Oreius. "One mile?" he gasped.

The centaur returned his gaze with a somber look of his own. "I'll warn the others. I would suggest, Your Majesty, that you be the one to inform Their Majesties King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy."

Peter gave a short, succinct nod and headed off to do just that. Before he got far, though, he could already hear the crashing of trees as the giants headed their way. He sucked in a deep breath and broke into a sprint, searching wildly for his sisters and brother. They had to be warned before—before—before they were caught off guard and—Peter couldn't finish the thought. All of his energies were being funneled into his task now, and he couldn't look back or focus on anything else.

**Please review to let me know what you think! (Or if I should even continue this endeavor.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After what seemed like an eternity, Peter stumbled out into a clearing, where he found Lucy amusing herself by pulling smooth rocks out of a brook for use in slingshots. Her older brother could hear her humming a little tune that sounded like it was being made up as she went along. He sucked in several short, quick breaths as he rushed to her side, pulling her up suddenly. Immediately, the look in her eyes made him regret startling her, but there wasn't time for anything, just safety.

"Lucy, you've got to get back to Cair Paravel. Now. The giants are heading this way. I won't have you on the battlefield." His wide eyes wordlessly emphasized his point.

She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. "But Peter—"

"No, Lucy. It's my responsibility to make sure that you and the others stay safe, and the best way for me to do that is to pull superiority and insist that you get back to the castle." She remained looking up at him with big, sad eyes, and he heaved a great sigh. "Just keep your cordial close by, alright? I'll send someone when you can help."

The girl turned away and muttered something he couldn't quite catch, but Peter was in no mood for arguments right now. "Will you just do it, please, Lu? Work with me on this one. I've got to go find the others. The battle is already practically underway!" And with that, he gently pushed her off in the direction of their royal home and spun around in search of the rest of those under his charge.

* * *

><p>Edmund. He had to find Edmund. Peter shook his head. No. Edmund could take care of himself for a time. He needed to find Susan first, get her out of imminent danger. She might protest, as Lucy had, but—<em>Battles are ugly when women fight.<em> The phrase flashed through his mind, and he nodded as he had when Father Christmas first said it. If she protested, he would use the phrase on her. Peter caught a glimpse through the trees of the blue hunting dress he had seen her in earlier, and sprinted again in that direction. As he ran, he could hear the bellowing of the giants as they drew closer. Not even pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, he leapt over rocks and around scattered brush.

"Susan!" He took hold of her arm to spin her around, noticing she was already fitting an arrow in her bow.

Her eyes darkened at his interruption. "Peter, what are you doing?"

"Getting you out of here, Su. At least go to the top of the ridge, where you're out of the immediate battle.

Her blue eyes flashed. "Peter, I—" But she was stopped cold at the heat in his own eyes.

"Don't argue with me, Susan. Mum told me to take care of you, and I mean to do just that." He caught her rolling her eyes and pressed on, resisting the urge to shake her. "Besides, don't you remember what Father Christmas told us? Battles are ugly when women fight. I don't want you down here. The giants are already closing in. Leave the combat to us, and join the archers, will you?"

He saw the hurt in her face at his brusque tone, but he also saw understanding for the situation. She knew the responsibility that he, as High King, needed to bear. At least, she knew of it. And she knew that what he said was true, and it was her responsibility to obey. Nodding briefly, she did as she was bidden and made her way to the top of the ridge, where other fauns, satyrs, and centaurs were readying their bows.

From his vantage point near the top of the valley, he stared down into it. He could already see dwarves and various animals scattering in all directions. Instinctively, he scanned through the trees for his brother, clad in his customary scarlet and silver armor.

The young man drew in a swift breath as the loud splashing of a giant crossing the river momentarily distracted him, exhaling slowly only when it was followed by an angry shout as the giant discovered one of their pits the hard way.

"Peter! Peter!"

His subconscious zeroed in on the sound of his name being called above the other ruckus. He whirled toward it, eyes wide, searching.

Edmund burst into the area where the High King was in a full sprint, pulling up short when he saw his brother standing there.

"Peter!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "What happened?"

The elder swallowed and shook his head. "They came too quickly. I—"

He was cut off as a crash sounded out, followed closely by a second, and both boys spun to see another giant disappear from the waist down, while the first one, in a clumsy attempt to escape from his hole, happened to grab the release for a series of trees the beavers had weakened. This time, he went down and did not get back up.

Peter and Edmund looked at each other, and the younger managed a grave smile.

"Well, at least the traps are working," he murmured, and Peter could do no more than nod dumbly as he gazed in the direction where the giants had gone down.

Hoof beats could be heard behind them, and the familiar noise snapped Peter out of his brain-numbing shock. He whirled around the find Oreius heading their way.

"Your Majesty!" The two words from snapped across to the young man over the other crashing and shouts. He turned wide eyes up to the general's face, not surprised to see his expression grim.

"The first attack seems to be working, but the ditches won't keep them down for long. I would suggest, my liege, that you bring the gryphons through as soon as possible. We want to keep the damage the giants are bound to incur at a minimum."

Peter nodded dumbly—again. Why did it seem like that was all he was doing? He didn't feel prepared for this at all, and he hated it. It irked him more than the faces Edmund would make sometimes. He had always been the golden boy, always had things sorted. But now, now he felt practically helpless in the face of the intruding battle, in a country he barely understood yet was expected to take complete responsibility for and somehow lead into this war. The High King sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly.

"Okay," he said finally. Something hardened in his eyes, and he was no longer, at least for the moment, the frightened, inexperienced thirteen-year-old. It was a growing up instant, and both persons at his side noticed as he threw his shoulders back and stood up straight. "Okay," he repeated, but this time it wasn't tinged with resignation. It was merely a beginning, for in the next breath he was spitting out commands.

"Oreius, you're right. I need you to assemble the gryphons and make sure they're prepared. Then, wait for my signal." The centaur bowed and galloped away, and Peter spun to face his brother. "Ed, keep your sword on you, but right now I want you to get up and stand with the archers." Edmund frowned, clearly about to insist that he should be here, with Peter, on the front lines, but the elder held up a hand. "I'll need you soon enough. But it's important right now for me to know where you are."

Understanding dawned on the boy's dark features, and he nodded briefly and ran in the direction of his sister and other creatures that were at the top of the ridge.

Peter himself whirled back around to gaze into the valley, and his features took on a grave expression. Then, without warning, he took off down towards the traps, towards the ditches, towards the giants. In other words, he was running straight towards danger. But he needed to get all animals, dryads, and other beings out away from where the gryphons were going to be coming through. And once his subjects were safe, then he could initiate the next attack. His own safety didn't matter in the meantime.

**Is anyone reading this meager attempt at putting my two cents into Narnia? Please let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

THUD!

A rock fell not two feet from Peter's head, and he leapt sideways, breathing hard. He allowed a self-chiding grimace to cross his face. When he had given Oreius the signal to send the gryphons on their way, it hadn't occurred to him to get himself out of the valley first. Well, no one had ever called him the sharpest tack in the box, and they were all still learning the art (if one could call it that) of war.

Another rock thudded nearby, and Peter increased his speed. He knew that the gryphons wouldn't intentionally hit him, but their view was obscured by the trees. And if he hadn't been in the way, then there wouldn't even be a problem.

After what seemed like an eternity, the young man made it up the hill, only to find his brother staring at him incredulously.

"You were down there?" Edmund asked, disbelief and what Peter thought sounded a little like horror coloring his tone.

He nodded, doubled over, unable to speak in the process of trying to find his breath.

Edmund's eyebrows shot up. "Did Oreius know that?"

The elder couldn't repress a grin at his foolishness. "Well, yes and no. I signaled him from near the base of the valley, and he saw that, but he most likely took it for granted that I would have been out of harm's way beforehand." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Shows how much we both know."

His brother laughed outright at Peter's obvious embarrassment of his situation.

"I'm sure that next time you'll be more careful. At least," he continued with an impish grin, "we hope so."

Peter glanced up sharply, confusion clouding his features, but it soon dissipated when he saw the teasing look on his brother's face. "Alright, you. That's enough."

Ed's dark eyes grew wide and innocent. "What?"

His brother playfully rolled his own eyes, about to make a comment, when a shriek pierced the air, and the boys' heads turned quickly to discover what had happened. To their great dismay, they saw the giants climbing through the trees; the shriek had been caused by one of them taking his club and striking down a gryphon.

Peter swung around, meeting Oreius' solemn eyes with his unsure blue ones. The centaur gave him a nod, and he blinked away, swallowing convulsively to put his stomach back where it belonged. This was on his shoulders, and he needed to take responsibility and do what was required.

And his growing up process began all over again. Peter wondered mildly how many times today he was going to have to force his mind and limbs to cooperate and adjust to the fact that he was, in fact, in charge of the situation. Shaking himself slightly, he caught his general's eye again, this time being the one to signal with a nod.

With a mighty yell, Oreius unsheathed his great sword, and the cats, who had been waiting for this very action, pawed the ground and sprung forward. The boys could hear them snarling as they raced toward their victims, at the last second coiling energy in their hind legs as they practically flew off of the ground and into the faces of their adversaries.

As soon as they made contact, Peter swung his sword also, effectively telling the archers to let their arrows fly. Swamped on multiple fronts, the giants began stumbling back, unable to process more than one thing happening at a time. More of them fell and lay unmoving. Some of the creatures who hadn't crossed the river yet turned and ran in terror, finally making the mental connection that doing so equaled pain and possible death—not a pleasant prospect.

Still, several stubbornly pressed on. The High King watched this, eyes wide. Finally, he realized that there was no other option. His gaze traveled slowly over the ground and up to his brother's face to find his rich brown eyes watching him, waiting. Peter cleared his throat. "Are you ready for this?" he murmured.

Edmund answered with a grimace, and ran his hand through his dark locks. "As ready as I'm going to be, I suppose." He frowned, and his face hardened slightly as he exhaled. "If we're going to go, we need to go now."

Nodding, and looking once more to Oreius, Peter nodded again. The centaur returned with a grave nod, and some unspoken connection passed between the two before Peter looked away, all of his attention suddenly focused only on the moment and the imminent battle in front of him. After pausing for an instant, he raised his sword high, remembering how he had done the same at Beruna. "For Narnia, and for Aslan!" he shouted, and began the charge as he bounded down the hill.

It was no easy task to run _down_ to where the giants were, no easier than it was running up. But when you were running _up_, you didn't have to worry about losing your footing and falling head over heels down the hill, in the sight of all of your soldiers behind you. Combining the endeavor of running down towards their enemies with leaping over brush, rocks, and fallen trees as necessary, plus trying to avoid being taken out with one blow of a giant's club, and not to mention working earnestly to get situated to throw the poison-tipped javelin at just the right moment, Peter was having a time of it as he rushed toward the impending fight. He took a second to glance slightly over his shoulder to where Edmund was, and saw that he was struggling, also. Out of the corner of his eye, the High King watched one of the fauns do just what he was afraid of doing: trip and tumble down the hill. He winced. This was not going well. Was it too late to reconsider their final attack?

"Aslan, help us!" he muttered in an undertone. "I don't know the first thing about leading a battle on my own." He shifted to make his spear more accessible. "O Great Lion," he continued, "You're my last hope. But next time I can promise You I won't wait so long, because when it comes down to it, You're my _only_ hope." Peter heaved a weary sigh and stole another look in his brother's direction. The boy was a few paces behind him now, and slowing steadily. It was clear by the expression of pain on his face that he wouldn't be able to keep up much longer.

At the same time, the young man noticed that the giants weren't fazed by the Narnia army bearing down on them. In fact, although it was surely just his imagination, it appeared to Peter like the look on their dim-witted faces was one of cruel anticipation at wreaking more havoc on their already-weak forces.

The High King was just about to give the signal for those of his men who had javelins to throw them, when a mighty roar echoed through the Western Woods. Close behind that came another roar, just as powerful, but from the opposite side. Peter glanced around, eyes wide, and was certain that several full-grown trees near him quivered. His brows shot up in consternation. No one said anything about lions in the woods. The giants, of course, heard it also, and they were searching fervently, eyes wide in terror. Apparently, no one had informed them of the lions, either.

He stopped in his tracks, the rest of his army following suit. No one wanted to make any sudden moves for fear of drawing attention to themselves, and facing a gruesome death as penalty. Falling back to talk with Edmund, his gaze continued to explore the area for any sign of these great beasts, and he kept his voice low. "Ed, what do you think we do if we meet a lion?"

His brother could tell that he was trying to keep the mood light, but there was genuine anxiety in his eyes. "Or two lions?"

Peter frowned and took a deep breath. "Yeah, or two lions, but let's start with one. I don't even know _where_ to start. By the Mane, I'm not prepared for this!" He couldn't help but think of all the stories he'd heard in that other place of lions ripping men from limb to limb, and he shuddered. Just the way he'd imagined he'd die.

As if on cue, a great shaggy creature appeared in the growing darkness. It was too far away to see clearly, but Peter could tell when its mouth opened, and a roar came forth, strong and terrible.

Loud splashing and shouts momentarily distracted him, and he and Edmund both spun to see the giants in full retreat, moving as fast as their abundant mass would allow them.

"They're—they're leaving!" the younger king cried.

Peter could only nod, gaping. "They must know more about lions than we do. In fact, we should probably get out of here, too. I'm sure lions are unpredictable. One never knows what might happen."

"I'm sure you're right. Which means we should keep at least that one lion in— Hey! Where'd he go?"

His brother whirled around to see Edmund's finger pointed to where they had last seen the beast. "Who? He—" But he was cut off by another roar, only this time sounding much farther away. Peter drew in a swift breath. "Gone," he murmured, shock evident in his tone.

The woods, now shrouded in silence when compared to the heart-wrenching bellows of the giants and the earth-shattering roars of the lions, sounded eerie and unfriendly. At first, there was not even any movement from their troops; everyone was waiting, listening. But when it became clear that both of their adversaries had departed, it was like every man and creature let out a breath they had been collectively holding. A cough was heard from one, a sneeze from another. Two satyrs near the base of the hill struck up a hesitant, whispered conversation.

Peter glanced over at Edmund. "Well, I guess that's it, then," he spoke quietly. "Now what?"

Edmund laughed, a nervous, tittering sort of laugh that showed just how pent-up his emotions were and dispelled some of the tension of the situation. "I don't know. Gather in the men, I suppose. Head back to the castle."

The young man barely had time to acknowledge this with a nod when his centaur general came up behind the two, announcing his presence by the thud of hoof beats.

"Well done, my king. It seems that the giants have discovered that Narnia is not the weak nation it was before." Peter basked in the glow of his praise, but at his next statement, a flush crept up his neck. "However, there is still much work to be done before you are a warrior. Hopefully, there will not be any more battles in the near future. It will be some time before you are fully prepared to handle them on your own." The High King chanced a glimpse in Oreius' face, which was, as usual, as hard as flint. But before the centaur looked away, Peter caught a hint of a twinkle in his eye, and knew that he only chided because he cared. "Now, if you would call in your troops, Your Majesty, we will begin the trek back to Cair Paravel. And tomorrow, a feast commemorating your victory will be held."

A feast. Of course there would be a feast. The new monarchs were learning that there was a feast for every possible thing the Narnians could think of or could make up. Peter silently wished that he could just flop into bed and sleep for the next forty-eight hours, but knew that wasn't an option. But the option he had right now wasn't a dreary one. It was time to go home.

**I would love to hear what you think! Reviews make me so happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow. Chapter 5. I didn't think I'd get this far. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and given me encouragement for this story! I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 5**

"To King Edmund!"

Cheers were heard throughout the banqueting hall as all present raised their goblets high.

"To Queen Susan!"

Again, cheers erupted as the toasts continued.

"To Queen Lucy!"

Peter caught Edmund's eye from across the table and made a face, his gaze flitting up to the rafters and back again. The boy grinned, catching the silent message. That toast was the third one to the monarchs in the past half hour. It was nice that Narnia was proud of her kings and queens, but really, it was getting tiring.

"Do you think they'd notice if we slipped away?" Edmund mouthed, and the look his brother returned was priceless.

"No, not at all," he shot back, chuckling. He rolled his eyes again. "All we can do is hope it's over soon," he finished, and Edmund snickered.

"Yeah, good luck with that," he muttered, and the Oak Dryad sitting nearby, having been oblivious to the kings' silent conversation, snuck him a questioning look. The boy gave the nosy and indiscreet Dryad a half smile, and turned back quickly to the steaming plate of venison and smoked duck in front of him. He heard a smothered giggle come from Peter's direction, and found he couldn't repress a grin himself, though he stayed intent on his meal.

Yes, hopefully it would be over soon.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, the festivities were still going on, but they had abated enough that the monarchs could slip away one by one.<p>

Peter found himself on a balcony overlooking the glistening Eastern Sea. The fresh air and crisp breeze coming off the water ruffled his hair and rejuvenated his worn spirit. War was enough strain, without adding the hustle and bustle of a party afterwards. A faint smile played across his lips, and he sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Thank You, Aslan," he whispered. "I don't think the battle would have went the same without Your help."

"Perhaps more than you know, dear one."

Peter spun at the sound of that rich, full voice to find the Lion standing beside him, gazing out over the sea. "Aslan!" the boy breathed. "You're—you're here!"

The Lion turned His golden eyes to the king's face, and Peter thought he detected pleasure in His expression at the young man's joy of seeing Him. "Yes, child." He planted a lion's kiss on his forehead.

And, for some reason, Peter felt like he needed to explain what happened on the battlefield. "I'm sorry, Aslan. I didn't really know what I was doing in leading the country out against the giants. And I should have asked You about it, first." He made a rueful face. "Not last."

"Son of Adam, you indeed have much to learn." His eyes remained fixed on the boy's face, and Peter squirmed a little under His scrutiny. "But that is why I chose you for this, that you would learn to be the leader you have been called to be. As High King, it is your responsibility to be an example to both your subjects and your brother and sisters. Bear it well, Son of Adam."

The young man swallowed and nodded, his eyes still on the ground after having dropped them, unable to meet the Great Lion's gaze. "Only with Your help, Aslan," he spoke finally, his voice low.

"With that before you at all times, you will succeed," the Lion replied, and again Peter thought he detected that note of pleasure in His tone.

The High King chanced a glimpse up and discovered Aslan's liquid eyes boring into his own. And, for a moment, he found that he was completely captivated by the infinity of the Lion's eyes, and he didn't want to look away.

After what seemed like eternity, a bird alighted on the edge of the balcony, singing its praise for its monarchs at the top of its tiny lungs. The sound distracted Peter, and he shot a glance in the direction of the creature that was a mixture of interest in the creature and annoyance at the interruption. A low rumble that could be considered a chuckle came from Aslan, and the king brought his eyes back to His golden face.

"Even the tiny ones have quite a lot to say about your feat, Peter," the Lion spoke, amusement evident in His words and tone.

Peter nodded and swallowed, gazing again at the songbird. "It might have gone much worse," he began suddenly, the words spilling out of him. "We had a surprise visit from a few lions near the end of the battle. Strangely enough, they didn't turn on us; but, if they had, we would not have returned with the amount of troops we did."

"Lions, Son of Adam?"

He nodded again, turning back now to face Aslan. "Their roars frightened the giants away, but the beasts were large enough to tear us limb from limb, no problem." Peter paused, trying to gauge His reaction. Did Aslan think he was a coward?

The Lion waited.

"Was I supposed to fight the lions, too, Aslan?"

"No, dear one. The Lion was there to protect you. You entreated for help, and help came."

The young man's nose scrunched up in confusion. "Lion? But there were two lions, I heard them."

"There was only one; but he was swift of foot."

Aslan was staring at him with an inscrutable expression on His face, His liquid amber eyes piercing Peter's sea blue ones once more.

Understanding dawned on the king in waves of increasing magnitude. Lion. Entreated for help. There to protect. Aslan. Lion. Protect. An almost imperceptible gasp escaped from his lips, and his eyes grew wide.

"_You_ were the Lion," he breathed, joy and relief washing over him.

His King gave a long, slow nod. "Yes."

Unable to resist the impulse any longer, he wrapped his arms around the Lion's great neck, inhaling His sweet scent. "Thank You, Aslan," the boy whispered, not trusting his voice. "What would I do without You?" The lump in his throat increased, stifling anything else he would have said. A murmur of pleasure fell on Peter's ears, and he squeezed Him just a little bit tighter.

"Now, Peter," He rumbled, "you have much to do yet. Your subjects will be waiting for you."

The young man bit his lip, glancing down as he stepped back. "Can't I just stay out here with you?" He realized he sounded like Lucy, whining, but quite frankly, he didn't care.

"No, Son of Adam. You must return. Go. Lead. And I will be with you."

He breathed on the High King, and with that, He was gone. Peter stood in a daze, staring at the place where the Lion had been. Finally, he shook himself. _Lead_, Aslan had told him. And so he must. Turning slowly, he strode into the banquet hall.

_And they themselves grew and changed as the years passed over them. And Peter became a tall and deep-chested man and a great warrior, and he was called King Peter the Magnificent. __–C.S. Lewis, _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

**I would love to hear what you think! And, just for the record, of course Narnia does not belong to me. Everything strictly belongs to C.S. Lewis. I just like to enjoy his brilliance, every now and then.**


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